


How 'bout a bout

by BeFreeBeHappyA012



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Fencing, Fencing AU, M/M, Minor Hunk/Shay (Voltron), Minor Matt Holt/Shiro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 05:17:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9642251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeFreeBeHappyA012/pseuds/BeFreeBeHappyA012
Summary: A klance fencing au where Lance, a foilist, suddenly decides to take épée lessons after losing a bout against his self-proclaimed rival, Keith, in order to beat him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So a few things about fencing that might be handy to know before reading this- there're 3 main weapons: foil, épée, and sabre. foil is the lightest blade and the target area is the front and back of the torso where points are scored with the tip of the blade. Generally, people start with the foil. Épée has a slightly heavier blade where the wrist guard is bigger and the whole body is a target where you score with the tip of the blade. Lastly, with the sabre, you can score on the torso, arms, and head. A main difference with sabre is that you can score with the edge of the blade. I've never done sabre myself so i don't know as much about it and although i took foil lessons I'm not very good at it (but i'm worse at épée- i blame my short arms) X'D
> 
> So when i write about fencing, i'm going off of the things my coach taught me and i'm also using most of his terminology so if you're a fencer and you were taught a different way, that could 100% happen. I hope you enjoy regardless!
> 
> Also thank you SO MUCH to my nii-san who i'm using to bounce ideas back and forth for this fencing au. He's apart of this just as much as i am so he needs credit too. Together we were able to come up with some pretty interesting ideas that will happen in this first chapter as well as all the other chapters to follow so stay tuned~ this is only the beginning!

One thing Lance hated about fencing was the sweaty hair. And the constant bruises. And the stiff joints the following morning. Okay, maybe there was more than one thing he hated about the sport but that wasn’t stopping him. All of his other brothers and sisters were forced to take up sports because they needed “ _physical activity_ ” but Lance didn’t want to do something typical. He wanted to do something different—something that felt more like _him_. So when Hunk decided to take up fencing way back near the end of middle school Lance convinced his mom to let him sign up and the rest was history.

“Alright guys, time for a break!” Coran, the foil instructor called out. “Go get yourselves a drink and do some stretches. I’m sure you’re all old enough to warm up on your own.”

Lance groaned as he wiped the sweat from his forehead and headed towards his bag by the side of the room. “Man, those footwork exercises are always killer,” he huffed. “I didn’t think I could last much longer.”

“You should be used to it by now,” Pidge said as they reached down to take a bottle out of their bag. “Or maybe it’s because you’ve been slacking off.”

Lance let out a breath after he had gulped down some water. “I have _not_ been slacking off.”

He heard Pidge mumble an incoherent “mhmm sure, Lance,” and made a face at them.

“Whatever, let’s just see who can stretch the farthest.” Lance plunked himself down on the gym floor and attempted to reach towards the end of his sneakers.

Pidge followed but shook their head. “Not everything’s a challenge, Lance.”

“Oh yeah? Well I’m still beating you.”

He heard heavy footsteps jogging back and forth along one of the strips1 on the opposite side of the gym and looked up, mentally groaning. It was another thing to add to the list of what he hated about fencing: stupid mullet heads that always tried to one up you.

“It’s that show-off again,” Lance grumbled and gestured towards him. Pidge followed his gaze until they saw what he was complaining about.

“That guy? He’s just warming up, he’s not even in our class.” They shrugged and went back to stretching.

“Yeah, then why is he even here if he’s not in our class? To show off, that’s why!”

“Lance, chill. I’m pretty sure he’s in the epee class after us. He’s just warming up before practice.”

Lance waved his arms. “The epee class doesn’t even start soon—we’ve got almost an hour left. That mullet head’s an over-achiever and _obviously_ trying to one up me!” He stood up and placed his hands firmly on his hips. “I’m gonna go challenge him to a bout.”

“Are you crazy?” Pidge exclaimed. “He’s totally gonna beat you.”

Lance scoffed. “There’s no way he’s gonna beat _this_.”

Before Pidge could say, “don’t make me say I told you so,” he had already marched over towards him, helmet on and foil in hand.

“Hey, mullet! Yeah, you!” Lance called.

The other slowed down to a light jog until he stopped in front of Lance. “Yeah?” he asked, raising a brow.

Lance gave a casual wave of his blade. “I’m challenging you to a bout. So suit up.”

Mullet head crossed his arms over his chest, a doubtful look on his face. “Don’t you need to get practicing?”

“Coran’s not back yet. Besides this bout won’t take that long.”

“Uh, okay,” he eyed Lance’s foil then plucked one up for himself from a nearby bin and slid his helmet on. “Ready?”

Lance almost burst out laughing. “Aren’t you gonna put some gear on?”

“I won’t need it.”

“Um, _yeah_ you will. Coran doesn’t like us fencing without proper gear on. That helmet’s not gonna cut it.”

“I won’t need it because you’re not gonna land a hit.”

Lance felt rage build up inside him and was about to retort but the other had already taken a step forward then lunged with his blade pointed straight at Lance’s chest. He stumbled backwards and hurriedly moved his blade into fourth position, foil pressed against his opponents. Lance skilfully disengaged the blade, and thrust his hand forward in a feint until the other took the bait—moving his foil back to sixth position in order to counter. As Mullet head stepped back, Lance disengaged once again and lunged, the tip of his foil only centimeters away from his opponent’s chest. Mullet head raced backwards, footsteps smooth as the distance grew farther between them and Lance cursed, wishing his arm was longer. That must’ve been some kind of luck on Mullet head’s part since he barely managed to backpedal out of there but he would make sure his blade reached his target next time. As Lance recovered from his lunge, Mullet head took the opportunity to rush at him then, arm extended. Lance countered with a clumsy parry but his opponent was quicker: a smooth disengage, a step forward, and an outstretched arm was all that ended the bout.

Lance took a step back. “That wasn’t fair!”

“What wasn’t fair?” Mullet head took off his helmet and rested it against his hip, barely any sweat on his face. “I had priority—your recover was too slow and I attacked first. Your disengages worked well though. ” He extended a hand. “Thanks for the bout.”

Lance harrumphed and stomped away, leaving the other’s hand unshaken. Pidge was cackling on the floor and he pulled his helmet off, throwing it into his bag.

“Can it, Pidge. Don’t even say it,” Lance grumbled and slumped down on the bench.

Pidge caught their breath. “I told you so,” they wheezed and kept on laughing.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. That mullet is just a _jerk_.” He pouted and rested his head in one hand.

Abruptly, Coran came from around the corner and clapped his hands together, signalling for everyone to come to the middle of the gym. “Alright everybody, warm-ups over! Time to start fencing!”

Lance sighed. “C’mon, Pidge.”

The pair headed towards an empty piste and as it turned out, Mullet head wasn’t the only one who beat Lance that day.

 

                                                            ……

 

“I can’t believe that guy! Who does he think he is?” Lance stomped down the street, gym bag slung over his shoulder.

“He’s probably just been practicing for longer than you have,” Pidge said. “Maybe Hunk knows him since they’re probably in the épée class together. But anyways, it won’t do you any good to get worked up over him.”

“Whatever,” Lance groaned and ran a hand through his damp hair. “I’m gonna beat him someday, you’ll see. But for now what I really need is a cold shower.”

“I already called dibs on the shower so you’ll have to wait,” Pidge said and searched in their pocket for keys as they reached the door to their apartment. They finally found the little key ring with more assortments of knickknack key chains than actual keys, and pushed the door open.

Lance sighed as he trudged in after Pidge and tossed his bag on the couch. It was a cramped apartment—a small desk covered in textbooks and loose papers sat huddled in the corner by the dusty window. Pidge flicked the lights on but it barely did anything to brighten up the living room, only casting a dim glow that displayed how many weeks they’d gone without abiding by the chore list. They quickly flicked the switch back, content with the window being the main source of lighting.

“Well, I’m gonna shower now. Maybe you should finish some of your homework,” Pidge said. “Isn’t it due on Monday?”

“Shit, you’re right,” Lance replied and made his way towards the desk, flipping through the pages littered about. “I totally forgot about my essay. These early morning practices are killing me.”

“Don’t blame everything on fencing. And don’t ask me to finish it for you because that is _not_ gonna happen.” They snatched up a (hopefully) clean towel from a shelf that was home to about a billion unfolded cloths and headed for the washroom. “Good luck on that paper,” Pidge called then firmly closed the door.

Lance slumped down on the chair and rested his head on the cluttered desk. He’d just get one more page done on this damned essay then he’d take a break. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone and lazily unlocked it, checking for any messages. Of course there were none because _no one freaking loved him_ , only a reminder from Coran that there was practice again on Tuesday if he wanted to go. Lance contemplated on attending but then thought better of it when he remembered his bout with Mullet head. That guy was probably leagues above him but he still wanted to beat him.

Lance closed his phone and set it face down on the desk. He wouldn’t be able to win a bout against that mullet unless he trained more so maybe going to practice on Tuesday wasn’t such a bad idea.

He shifted in his seat, resting his head on his arm. Maybe a nap wasn’t such a bad idea either.

 

                                                            ……

 

Lance awoke suddenly to an insistent finger that jabbed his arm. He waved his hand in an attempt to stop whoever was annoying _the hell_ out of him but the poking didn’t stop.

“Cut that out,” Lance mumbled sleepily, waving his hand again. He opened an eye to see Hunk’s face right next to him. The other gave a little wave and Lance jumped back with a yelp.

“What’re you doing, scaring me like that?” Lance demanded. “I was getting in a good nap.”

“When you were supposed to be studying,” Pidge commented from their spot on the couch. They were hunched up with their laptop and a towel placed on their head that didn’t seem to be soaking up anything. “I was gonna wake you up,” Pidge continued, “but you kept talking about some mullet in your sleep. I didn’t want to _disturb_ you.”

“Oh yeah, that mullet!” Lance stood up and gripped Hunk by his arms, ignoring Pidge’s insinuations. “Do you know who he is? Is he in your épée class?”

Hunk brushed him off. “Um, why do you wanna know? I don’t even remember anyone with a mullet besides Coran.”

“Y’know, tall, dark, and handsome,” Pidge supplied. “Emo kid who’s always there earlier than everyone else. I feel like I’ve seen him from somewhere before besides fencing…”

Realization showed up on Hunk’s face. “Ooh, you mean Keith? Yeah, he’s in my class. He always stays late to train with Shiro. I think they live together.”

“Oh, so _that’s_ Keith,” Pidge said. “Never knew.”

Lance made a frustrated noise. “How come everybody knows this _Keith_ except me?”

“Why, what’s it to you?” Hunk asked. “He’s a pretty nice guy. Really good with a sword.”

“Lance challenged him to a bout and lost miserably,” Pidge said. “Now he’s sworn revenge against him.”

“I did _not_ lose miserably! He cheated!”

Pidge turned around to look at Hunk. “There’s no use arguing with him. He’s convinced it wasn’t a fair bout when Keith _clearly_ won.”

“He did _not_ win fairly and I _will_ beat him one day!” Lance shouted and headed towards the washroom. “Now I’m gonna take a shower.”

When Lance got out, Hunk and Pidge had brought out the PS3 and were gaming pretty passionately. He was about to pick up a controller and game with them but his eye caught the crowded desk and computer with an empty Word document and he sighed. He still had all of tomorrow to finish it up but he didn’t want to waste his Sunday doing homework. Best to finish it all tonight.

Lance sunk down onto the chair and began sifting through his notes. “This won’t be that hard,” he said. “I’ll be done before I even know it.”

Four hours and seven dollars less later, Lance could barely keep his eyes open. The only thing keeping him awake was the pizza delivery they had all paid for and a can of coke that was half empty by now. He had written the first page and a half but it all felt like gibberish.

“This won’t be hard, my ass,” Lance grumbled, taking a swig of coke. “Somebody just kill me.”

“Dude, you should take a break and come game with us,” Hunk said.

“No,” Lance replied. “Not when I’m so close to being finished this damned thing!”

“You’re so dramatic,” Pidge said.

Hunk shrugged. “You’re loss.”

“You guys just don’t understand,” Lance insisted. “I can’t waste my lazy Sunday writing stupid papers! It’s called _lazy_ for a reason!”

Pidge reached for another slice of pizza. “Whatevs.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard,” Hunk said. “We’ll probably be hitting the sack soon here.”

Lance mumbled a reply and dug through his notes, trying to find the one where it said how to properly cite quotes. It wasn’t until after Hunk and Pidge had gone to bed that he finally found it and then he forgot why he even needed it in the first place. With the dull glow of his computer illuminating the corner (while also managing to make it feel like his eyes were burning out of their sockets) Lance felt himself slowly drift off to sleep.

 

                                                            ……

 

“En garde, prêts, allez.2”

Slow footsteps forward. Light and fluid, a half-step, a feint. When the opponent lunged, a quick step with the back foot and a step lunge coming up too short. Lance retreated, maintaining the distance, the opponent’s attack almost grazing his lamé3.

_That was way too close._

Back in sixth position, feet moving, never still. Breathing steady, knees aching. It was about time this fight ended.

_Let’s try this._

Another step forward, weight shifting onto the front leg. Arm extended and back foot moving swiftly towards his opponent. _Bam,_ like an arrow, blade shooting straight out-- but instead of hitting the opponent, Lance ended up sprinting past and his opponent twirled round, scoring the final point of their bout.

“Attack, touché.”

Lance sighed, returned back to the en garde line4 and saluted then removed his helmet and shook hands. As he unhooked the body wire Coran called out to him.

“Lance, remember me telling you not to try a fleche5?” He asked. “Well, that’s why. Where did you even learn how to… attempt it?”

“Pidge showed it to me.” Lance ran a hand through his hair then grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his face.

“Ah, yes. Matt probably taught Pidge that. But it doesn’t matter because you shouldn’t try it yet. You’re too inexperienced.”

Lance waved his arms in frustration. “If I don’t try new things, how will I ever get better at this?”

“Maybe you should try mastering the basics—that way the new techniques won’t be quite as hard to pull off.” Coran placed a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of things.”

After Coran left to go help one of the other fencers, Lance headed back to his bag and unzipped his lamé. Pidge was still fencing so there was time to kill before he headed back. He stared past the line of chairs placed by the large windows and focused on the bare trees shaking in the wind. It was almost spring, buds should’ve appeared by now—there was hardly anymore snow on the ground.

Suddenly a head of dark hair caught his eye. It was Mullet head- or, rather Keith- except Lance didn’t see his signature mullet. Instead his hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail and he was wearing _sweatpants_. What was wrong with the world?

Lance stood up, joints aching, and strode over to where Keith was sitting, hunched over a laptop.

“Yo, Keith,” he said, obviously startling the other. “Whatcha doing?”

Keith stared at him for a moment longer then gestured to his laptop. “Uh, homework? It was due yesterday.”

“Ohh, so you’re not an over-achiever then? Sure seemed like one.”

Keith looked at him quizzically then started to reply but Lance cut him off.

“So you’d waste your time on homework rather than training?”

Keith shrugged. “Gotta get it done.”

“What, were you too lazy to get it done for Monday?” Lance asked.

“I just got busy.”

Lance crossed his arms. Keith wasn’t talking back, he was simply passive. Was he just trying to be rude by being… nice?

“Suuure,” Lance said. “Nice excuse.”

“Uh, yeah.” Keith replied, seemingly unsure. “I should probably get back to this though. You should continue your lesson, I don’t think your class is over yet.”

Lance jabbed a finger dangerously close to Keith’s face. “Don’t tell me what to do, mullet! I do what _I_ want!” Lance stalked off and took a long drink of water.

“Stupid mullet, telling me what to do,” Lance grumbled, screwing the lid back onto his bottle. “I’ll show him.”

He watched as Pidge’s bout ended—they won by a long shot and it only made him feel worse about himself. He wasn’t winning anything lately and this losing thing was getting discouraging. Maybe he should just give up…

“Hey Lance!” Pidge called as others started packing up their things and heading out. “Did you see that?”

Lance plastered a smile on his face. “Yeah, that was pretty cool. You won… again.”

“He didn’t even stand a chance.” Pidge took of their glove and stuffed it into their bag.

“Hey Keith, do you mind helping me set up for the next class?” An authoritative voice rang through the room and Lance looked up to see who it was. The guy was tall, muscled, and kind of… kind of _really hot_. He had dark close-cropped hair except for a large chunk in the front that was white, and he moved about in an assured way, like he knew what he was doing.

Keith stood up, closed the lid on his laptop and nodded. “Alright.”

Pidge waved at the newcomer. “Hey, Shiro!” They jogged over and Lance followed hesitantly. “How’ve you been? How’re things with Matt?”

Shiro looked down and smiled. “Oh hey, Pidge. It’s, uh, it’s going well.”

Lance wondered where Pidge new this new guy from but was interrupted when Hunk walked through the doorway and waved. “Hey guys!” He turned to Keith who was rearranging gear. “Need any help setting things up for class?”

Keith looked up. “Um, sure, actually. Maybe you could move that box?” He pointed to a large box in the corner. “It’s just got some extra face masks and stuff in it. It’s a little heavy but I think you can manage.”

“Cool.” Hunk gave a thumbs-up and headed towards it.

As Pidge caught up with Shiro, Lance made his way towards Hunk and Keith.

“I bet it’s just _way_ too heavy for you but you don’t wanna admit it, right Keith?” He grinned and placed his hands on his hips.

Keith frowned. “Uh, no. It doesn’t really matter either way—I could move it myself but having extra hands doesn’t hurt anything.”

“Oh yeah? Betcha I could move it.” Lance stooped down and wrapped his arms around the box. “I guess it’s just too much for little Keithy to handle.”

“Uh, Lance—” Hunk started.

“Don’t worry Hunk, I got this,” Lance replied and squatted down, his ass sticking out awkwardly. He grunted as he struggled to lift the box from the ground and his feet slid on the floor, trying to find something to grip. Finally after another pitiful attempt, he let out a breath and cursed.

“What the hell’s wrong with this box?” Lance demanded, kicking at the ground. “There’s gotta be like, a cow in there!”

Keith shrugged. “Just face masks.”

Hunk laughed nervously. “I’ll take it from here guys.” He made it look like he was picking up a bag of feathers as he carried it out of the way and into the storage room.

“How does he do that?” Lance practically squeaked.

“He’s just strong?” Keith replied.

“That was a rhetorical question, Keith,” Lance snapped. “Get with the program.”

Keith looked unimpressed but didn’t say anything as Hunk came back to stand next to them.

“Hey, Keith,” Shiro said, approaching with Pidge by his side. “Looks like you’ve made some new friends.”

Keith looked doubtful as he glanced back at Lance. “Um, well…”

“I’ve already met Hunk and Pidge,” Shiro said, then turned to Lance. “But I’ve never officially met you. You’re in Coran’s foil class, right?” He extended his right hand, which was gloved. “I’m Shiro, one of the épée instructors.”

“The name’s Lance,” he said, shaking Shiro’s hand.

“Wait, did you say Lance?” Keith spoke up suddenly. “Are you the guy who challenged me to a bout the other day?”

“Are you saying you didn’t even recognize me?” Lance sputtered.

Keith threw up his hands. “You were wearing a mask! Do you expect me to look closely at everyone’s faces all the time?”

“It’s not like you _can’t_ see someone’s face through these masks! And I expect you to remember my face because how could you not?”

“‘How couldn’t I’? More like how couldn’t I forget how awful your footwork was!”

“Why you--!” Lance took a step forward and so did Keith. Neither of them said anything as they glared at each other.

Shiro smiled. “Well I’m glad you made some new friends, Keith. That’s really nice.”

Keith stared at Shiro incredulously, as if he hadn’t witnessed their argument and how they were totally the farthest things from being “friends.”

“Well, we had better finish setting up things for the épée class’s practice,” Shiro said. “It was nice meeting you Lance, and we’ll have to get together some other time Pidge.”

“Sure thing, Shiro!” Pidge replied. “See you around.”

“Later guys, see you when I get home.” Hunk said, waving. “Don’t forget to figure out supper for yourself, Pidge. Lance and I are working tonight.”

“Right.” Pidge nodded and they headed out the door with Lance in tow.

They weren’t even halfway down the street when Lance started complaining and Pidge’s pace quickened.

“How did he not even recognize me?” Lance demanded. “Like, how dense can a person be?”

Pidge sighed, not even bothering to answer and tightened their grip on their bag. When Lance decided to go on one of his rants, they usually chose to tune him out.

Finally the two reached their apartment and Pidge hastily unlocked the door, Lance’s rant about “that stupid show-off mullet head” still in full swing. They were tempted to shut the door in his face and lock it (because Lance always relied on them to carry the house keys) but that would bring upon even more unnecessary rants and Pidge didn’t want that in the slightest.

When they trudged in, not bothering to rub their shoes on the doormat, Lance took a deep breath (presumably to carry on with his long winded explanation as to why no one should ever forget his face) Pidge whirled and pointed a finger at him.

“Lance,” they warned. “If you keep talking I think I’ll explode. So _please_ wait till you get to work with Hunk and _then_ you can talk all you want.”

Lance held up his hands. “Okay, okay, sheesh,” he said. “I was just gonna ask what you were planning to make for dinner.”

Pidge dumped their bag on the couch. “Dunno. I’ll figure that out later. Remember you only have two hours before your shift so you might wanna start getting ready, knowing how long you take.”

“You know me to well,” Lance turned to walk towards his room. “This time I’ll be ready faster than you can say ‘Lance is the best.’”

Pidge threw a pillow at him. “I’m never saying that.”

“It was worth a try!”

 

                                                            ……

 

“Sorry I’m late!”

Lance practically threw open the door to the café, causing the little bells on it to jingle like an over emphatic caroller on Christmas Eve. He sprinted past the little tables arranged here and there around the small shop, hastily making his way to the back. A few customers looked up, startled or glaring but most paid him no mind. He gave Hunk an apologetic look as he stopped beside him and the cash register.

“Bro, you made me take people’s orders _and_ cook the food,” Hunk scolded. “That’s _way_ to much for one guy to handle. My moms are taking the week off remember? Which means you gotta man the cashier.”

Lance scratched the back of his head. “Sorry, sorry, it was Pidge’s fault.”

“Riiight, Pidge’s fault. Got it.” Hunk stepped past Lance and moved to the kitchen in the back room. “Well now that you’re here, Pidge isn’t gonna stop you from getting to work.” He left the door swinging as he strode to the back.

Lance let out a breath and rested his face in one hand, surveying the situation since there wasn’t anyone in line: there was a brown haired cutie sitting with an, _ooh_ , even cuter cutie. They were both on their phones though, taking a sip out of their coffee cups in a creepily synchronized way—nope, not his type. He didn’t want someone who would just sit on their phone all day—he wanted someone who he could sit next to and talk about dumb things; things that didn’t matter; things that could take his mind away from reality.

Lance scanned the small crowd again until he heard the door jingle and his head turned so he could size up the next customer. She was taller with a head full of bouncy curls that swayed up and down with her every move. On closer inspection, he realized he knew her and he was sure she remembered him too.

“Oh, Lance!” The woman exclaimed. “You finally get to be working up in the front now. I’m sure that it’s much better than cleaning tables. How’ve you been? Coran tells me that you came to class on Tuesday.”

“Hey, Allura,” Lance said, smiling nervously. “Yeah, it’s been fine. I just thought I could get more practice in.”

Allura’s eyes shined. “You know you can always come to me for extra practice—I wouldn’t mind. I still remember when you first decided to start fencing and that one time when you—”

“Hey, we don’t need to reminisce about the past, do we?” Lance waved his arms as if it would stop her from blabbing all of his fencing fails. “I’ll think about your offer though.”

Allura laughed. “Alright. Speaking of offers, have you ever considered trying épée?” she asked. “Hunk’s taking it and I think you have some potential too. There are also some fine students whom you could learn a lot from.”

“Épée?” Lance repeated. “Um, I think you’ve got the wrong guy—I can barely handle myself with a foil. Besides, my arm would get tired from holding an épée all day. Those things are heavy. Well heavi _er_.”

“Hmm,” Allura contemplated. “Well I see a _lot_ of potential in you, Lance. Think about it, okay?”

Lance promised he’d think it over then started readying her regular order.

He shook his head. Him? Taking the épée class? Was Allura out of her mind? He didn’t understand how she saw potential in him _at all_. There was no way he’d go—not while he still had so many things to master with a foil. But on the other hand, he wouldn’t have to wake up as early for practice if he took the épée class. He could goof off with Hunk and flirt with Shiro since he was the épée instructor. _That_ didn’t seem too bad…

Then he remembered Keith.

If he were in the same class as that stupid mullet, he’d be motivated to get better. And he could actually have a chance at beating him _if_ he tried hard enough…

Maybe épée wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

 

……

 

“What makes you wanna try épée? Didn’t you always say the blade was too heavy for your dainty hands?”

“ _I_ have never said that, and my hands are _not_ dainty for the record,” Lance defended. “It’s just something Allura suggested.”

Hunk nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt. I mean, unless of course, you accidentally get yourself killed by Keith because I can totally see it coming, but yeah. Why not?”

Lance shoved Hunk playfully. “Bro, that is _not_ helping. I’m going because I wanna get better so I can beat that guy in a bout.”

“That may take a while,” Hunk said. “Keith has been fencing longer than you _and_ me so he’s got the upper hand. Plus he always takes fencing seriously _and_ he trains personally with Shiro, so yeah.” He shrugged. “But I’m sure you can do it if you try.” He added lamely.

“Thanks for trying to discourage me but it’s not gonna work,” Lance replied. “He’s my rival now and nothings gonna stop me from winning a bout against him.”

“Whatever you say, Lance. Next class is on Thursday so you still have a day to change your mind. I’m sure Coran will be cool with it—since Allura recommended you. And you can finally meet Shay!”

“You can introduce me to your girlfriend after,” Lance said. “I gotta focus if I wanna beat Keith.”

Hunk turned away. “She’s not my girlfriend, we’re just friends. Like, normal friends. There’s nothing else going on.”

“Mhmm, yeah sure, I believe you,” Lance hummed.

Hunk kept denying it until they reached the door and Pidge was hunched over in their usually spot on the couch, clutching their laptop with a microwaveable meal sitting next to them, half devoured.

“Hey Pidge, Lance says he’s gonna try épée.” Hunk informed them.

Pidge pushed their glasses back on the bridge of their nose. “Really? Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“No, it’s not a joke, Pidgelet, it’s a very serious decision,” Lance said.

“Well then, I’m going with you.” Pidge replied matter-of-factly. “I don’t wanna be stuck with the youngsters, plus Matt used to do épée. I gotta be able to beat him someday.”

Lance pumped his fist in the air. “Yeah, that’s the spirit! And I’ll be able to beat Keith too.”

“You guys are just so focused on beating people,” Hunk sighed. “Maybe you should try improving your skill rather than murdering other people.”

“Nah, beating people is better,” Lance said. “That way you have a goal and stuff. Right, Pidge?”

Pidge shrugged. “I’m just glad I’ll get to sleep in.”

Hunk and Pidge continued arguing about the motivations of mankind when Lance announced that he was heading to bed. He couldn’t help feeling invigorated at having a new challenge—something that’d take his mind away from the drag of everyday college life. It’d add new spice to his life again and that was what he needed. Getting antsy by following the same routine everyday was what bugged Lance the most, and either way, it just felt _right_ —like he was making a good decision for once. Like maybe fate would treat him kindly this time. Just maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> Footnotes:  
> 1: strips- also called "piste" is the area where you fence on. They're literally like long strips (14 metres long by 1.5-2 metres) and if you step outside of them with both feet, a point goes to the opponent. 
> 
> 2: "en garde, prêtz, allez," - basically what you say to indicate a match is starting (something like, "ready? Go!")
> 
> 3: lamé- refers to the electric jacket used in foil and sabre. For foil, it just covers the front and back of the torso while in sabre it covers the torso as well as the arms. In épée, you don't need a lamé because the target is the whole body. 
> 
> 4: en garde line- there are marked lines along a piste (strip) in the centre, and also 2 metres on both sides of the centre line. The last 2 metres are also marked to warn a fencer that they are coming to the end of the piste. The en garde lines are the marked lines that are 2 metres from the centre line. That's where you stand at the start of a bout.
> 
> 5: fleche- it's where you basically sprint at your opponent in an attempt to get a point. You put your weight on the front foot and push off with it until your back leg moves in front then keep running. 
> 
> If there're some fencing terms that you don't understand feel free to ask about it in the comments and i will try my best to explain! You can also shoot me an ask on tumblr too. Also i'd REALLY like to know what you think so far so comment away! This is only the beginning after all and it's about to get a lot more interesting~


End file.
